


For Who Can Resist a Whiny Lincoln?

by froggy (therealfroggy)



Category: Prison Break
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 13:13:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therealfroggy/pseuds/froggy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-season 1: Michael and Lincoln have snow fights and hot chocolate. This was originally intended as a fluff piece, but, uh, it felt rather un-finished (or short) after the first part. So there's first The Fluff and then The Ensuing Porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Who Can Resist a Whiny Lincoln?

The Fluff

“You cheated!”

“Did not!”

“Yes, you did. What, you're trying to tell me that making the snow fall off the roof and onto my head was fair play?”

“Hey, I can't help it where I throw my balls...”

“Oh, smooth, Linc. Real smooth.”

The two brothers proceeded to undress in silence. Once Lincoln had rid himself of his soaked parkas (a Christmas gift from Veronica), his boots and his socks, he padded into Michael's kitchenette and began gathering the necessary equipment. He may not be much of a cook, but at least he could make blueberry pancakes and one more thing.

“Don't start messing up my kitchen!” Michael called from the hallway. The apartment was small, and Lincoln was making more noise than could fill it.

“Yeah, yeah,” Lincoln replied, scavenging Michael's refrigerator for milk. “Do you have any chocolate?”

“The cupboard over the sink.”

When Michael entered the kitchenette, Lincoln was melting large pieces of chocolate in a small saucepan filled with milk.

“What are you making?” Michael asked, hesitant. Lincoln couldn't cook if his life depended on it.

“What does it look like?” Lincoln grinned, then shoved his brother out of the way to get at his spice rack. “Don't you have any proper chocolate?”

“It's fifty percent cocoa solids, says so on the wrapping,” Michael said, frowning.

Lincoln scoffed and returned with a smallish glass container. “Behold, the master chef at work.”

Michael gave a snort and headed for the couch, then changed his mind and proceeded to light a fire in his rather small fireplace. If Lincoln was cooking, then Michael would make the place homey.

Noticing his sleeves were wet, too, Michael sighed and removed his shirt. Was there anything left on his person that was dry? Nope.

“I'm going to change into some dry clothes,” Michael stated, then went into his bedroom.

Lincoln found two large mugs and filled each of them with steaming hot chocolate, sprinkling both mugs with a little cinnamon in addition to what he'd already put in the saucepan. He carried both mugs over to the couch and made himself comfortable.

When Michael returned, Lincoln noticed he was wearing a rather tight tee shirt and a pair of jeans that hung rather low on his hips.

“You're losing weight,” Lincoln said, gesturing to the mug on the table. “Have some calories.”

Michael plopped himself down in the couch next to his brother and took the proffered mug. “No, I'm not. These are yours.”

“Am I that fat?”

Michael laughed. “No, you idiot, but they're three sizes too big for me, at least. Besides, they're really old, so I think the fabric's coming apart.”

Lincoln grinned, and took a long sip of his drink. _Mmm, that's good._ “And here I was, thinking you had money.”

“Well, my other jeans are awaiting laundry, if you must know,” Michael muttered, still staring at his mug as if expecting it to spout feelers and a few green spots.

Lincoln mock-glared at his brother. “You know, it really offends me that you're not drinking. I'm drinking, so it can't be poisonous.”

Michael smirked. “I don't have your stomach. Mine tends to react to nuclear waste, you know.”

Lincoln thumped his brother on the shoulder. “Well, mine has a six-pack.”

“I don't have hips as big as yours.”

“I don't have a chicken chest like yours.”

“I don't have a Neanderthal forehead like yours.”

“... Asshole.”

Michael watched in exasperation as his brother wilfully closed himself off, his jaw tightening and his eyes hardening.

“Come on, Linc, I wasn't...”

_Oh, great, now he's playing the I-hate-to-be-reminded-of-my-lack-of-college-degree game. Damn it._

He finally took a sip of his chocolate, tasting it carefully. The rich taste of chocolate mingled with the cinnamon, tingling over his tongue and coating the inside of his mouth with pure gastronomical bliss.

“Oh,” Michael said, a smile spreading across his face. “It's actually good.”

Lincoln gave an insulted huff and shifted until he could look out the window instead of at his brother.

“Lincoln, get a grip. The chocolate's good, really good. You know I was only talking about your ugly face, not how smart you are,” Michael taunted, grinning.

The corner of Lincoln's lip lifted almost imperceptibly, but the older man was decidedly stubborn.

“You can compliment my legendary cooking skills all you want; I still hate you.”

“Oh, very mature, Linc! I hate you, too.”

The two men sat in silence for a while, sipping their hot chocolate peacefully. Then Michael put his mug down and shifted closer to Lincoln.

There was a fire, there was chocolate, and they'd had their first snow fight in years. Lincoln was out of prison and promising things would get better now. Michael's cheeks were still slightly pink from the cold, and he was wearing Lincoln's old jeans. In short, Michael felt like snuggling.

He moved close to the other man. Lincoln scowled at him and promptly hopped further away on the couch.

Michael sighed. Oh, great.

“Lincoln.”

“Fuck off, you little wimp.”

“Lincoln!”

Michael tried leaning into Lincoln. There was technically no more room on the couch, so the older man had nowhere to move, but the shoulder Michael encountered could as well have been a brick wall.

“Lincoooln,” Michael whined, butting his head hard against the older man's arm. “Come on! Your little brother needs a pillow here, okay?”

Lincoln couldn't contain a snort of laughter. “Like that's what you want.”

Michael forcibly put Lincoln's arm around his own shoulders, then leaned into his brother. “There. Now stop being petulant.”

“I'm not being petulant; I'm whining,” Lincoln grinned, then gave in and let Michael cuddle up to him. “Wuss.”

Michael pressed his nose into Lincoln's neck and inhaled. He smelled of safety and manly, cheap aftershave. “Muscle head.”

 

The Ensuing Porn

From there, the situation rapidly went non-cuddly. One moment Michael was leaning against Lincoln with a mug of hot chocolate in his hands, the next moment said mug was being kidnapped by Lincoln and put back on the table with the other one. One moment Michael was leaning against his older brother, the next he was being pulled into his lover's lap.

“Not whining any more?” Michael said, a little breathless, as Lincoln rearranged them until Michael was straddling the older man's lap, facing away from him.

“No, you're apologizing,” Lincoln answered, and Michael could hear him grinning. A pair of large, strong hands fastened their grip around Michael's hips, and Michael did his best not to topple off the couch.

His tee shirt came off, and Michael followed silent instructions as Lincoln's hands pulled him back to lean against the older man. Then those same hands began caressing his hips lightly.

“You look so hot in my jeans, Michael,” Lincoln purred, letting his fingertips dip beneath the waistband of the garment in question. “They're a bit too big, so they hang off your hips and show off your hip bones. You know how I feel about your hip bones.”

Michael sighed happily and leaned into the firm body behind his. He always had been more interested in the cuddling than in the actual sex, but Lincoln loved the sex and Michael was more than happy to oblige him.

“Take them off,” Lincoln requested softly, reaching around to open the button and zip. “Please?”

“Maybe I'll just be cross with you because you cheated and refuse you,” Michael said, his voice serious but his eyes sparkling.

“I did not – Michael, throwing a snow ball at the roof is not cheating in a snow fight!” Lincoln nagged, then gave his brother a light shove and ordered him, “Take them off.”

Michael grinned, but rose to his feet and did as he was told. His comfortable cotton mix boxer shorts were beginning to tent in front. He always liked it when Lincoln got whiny. It was so adorable. “Fine.”

Lincoln was looking at him with dark eyes. “Now the shorts.”

Michael was naked, and then Michael was naked in Lincoln's lap. Lincoln was still fully dressed, and Michael thought it felt absolutely dirty.

“I'm prepared to forgive you for insulting me,” Lincoln declared, his statement belied by his boyish grin and growing erection. “But you have to lie back on the couch.”

The couch was just too short, and Michael ended up kind of crumpled. But Lincoln was lying on top of him, fully dressed, and was kissing his throat wetly. Michael keened appreciatively and placed his arms around his brother, pulling him closer. It was his favourite thing in the world; having Lincoln heavy on top of him and holding him safely.

Lincoln's favourite thing was sex. And Michael knew they'd both get what they wanted, eventually. They usually did, when Lincoln kept his nose clean.

“You know what I want, Michael,” Lincoln whispered in his ear before kissing it. “Or I'll just get ´petulant` again.”

“Then get your jeans off,” Michael panted, still working on pulling the older man closer.

“No, not today,” Lincoln said, then spread Michael's legs beneath him. “You remember, don't you, Mikey?”

Michael whimpered as the coarse fabric of Lincoln's jeans ground against his skin. He remembered, and it had included a hell of a lot of laundry, some embarrassing dry-cleaning bills and positively heavenly sex.

Almost sitting against the armrest, Michael let Lincoln cover him completely and then hooked his legs around the broad hips above his own. There was always so much of Lincoln; the other man would never be fat but he had broad shoulders, massive upper arms, a stocky neck, sturdy hips...

Michael gave a small sound of appreciation and stroke his hand over Lincoln's back. There was so much of it, and it was all his. All for him.

“Yeah,” Lincoln groaned, thrusting his hips against Michael's. “Hells yeah.”

They set up a slow and firm rhythm, Lincoln thrusting and Michael rolling in counterpoint. Lincoln's strong arms were around him, and every inch of the fortress that was Lincoln was surrounding him. Michael felt safer than he ever had; he was enclosed in a Lincoln cocoon and it was grounding against his groin to shoot sparks of warm pleasure through him.

“Fuck, Michael, I need to feel you,” Lincoln gasped, trying to stop his movements but unable to keep his groin from colliding deliciously with Michael's. “Please. Push my jeans down.”

But Michael didn't care about Lincoln's jeans; at least, not until he'd removed the shirt. The older man gave a growl of protest as the (to Michael) offending garment was flung away, but he was quickly appeased by Michael's opening his jeans and pushing them down his thighs.

Lincoln bucked, and Michael gasped at the sudden contact of skin against moist skin. Precome was coating his straining erection, and when Lincoln's ditto met his own, Michael couldn't help it. He begged Lincoln; please, please, anything, just do something! And Lincoln ground skin against skin even harder, and his calloused hands gripped Michael's soft, narrow hips, and they rutted against each other desperately because there wasn't enough friction.

“Michael,” Lincoln panted. “Michael, I want to come in your mouth. Oh, holy shit, Michael, please...” And the older man was sweating, groaning into Michael's neck, and he couldn't refuse. Wouldn't refuse. Clawing at each other until Lincoln was lying on his back on the couch, Michael dropped to the floor and attacked his brother's erection sideways.

Lincoln let his appreciation spill out of his mouth in loud groans. Michael felt hard flesh push over his tongue, and stroke the hips beneath it lovingly. _All for me. And he's so... Lincoln._

Something entirely different from appreciation then spilled in Michael's mouth, although it expressed the same. Michael swallowed happily and slowly released his brother, smiling indulgently at the sound of the man's quickened breath and hammering pulse. He could feel it on every inch of skin he touched as he rearranged himself to lie on top of Lincoln again.

“Michael,” Lincoln purred, pulling the younger man down for a kiss.

Michael kissed back, and was fully prepared to leave it at that, when Lincoln took hold of his erection and stroke it slowly. “What about you?” Lincoln grinned, with that dopey look he always had after sex.

“Don't... care,” Michael stuttered, his back and arms flexing as he steadied himself on the armrest behind Lincoln's head.

“But you'd like to come, too, wouldn't you?”

The older man's voice was melting into more sex and lazy groping. Michael let his brother play his body in a well-known tune, using just the right firmness and never neglecting those little places that had Michael squirming and grinding his teeth. Sooner than he would have liked, he was coming too; his come almost lazily shooting out to make Lincoln's skin sticky and sensitive.

“Come here, baby brother,” Lincoln grinned, pulling Michael to him for a gentle kiss after Michael finally stopped whimpering. The younger man enthusiastically pressed himself close to his brother, his come smearing both of their skins.

“You're so clingy,” Lincoln laughed, letting Michael nuzzle at the crook of his neck.

“You're so protective,” Michael countered, and sighed with content when Lincoln laid one hand around his back and the other cupped his ass.

“Of course I am; you're my baby brother.”

“And I'm supposed to be the smart and responsible one.”

But Lincoln was older, and Lincoln had broader shoulders and stronger arms, and Lincoln could make hot chocolate just right. Michael figured it didn't make him any less of a man if he conceded to Lincoln's taking the lead.


End file.
